


Houses of the Holy

by Zepwho



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zepwho/pseuds/Zepwho
Summary: As promised, dearest readers old and new, witness the beginning of a whole new episode as our boys approach their most exciting time yet. The 70ies are a time full of glamour and sucess...but also challenges neither could have ever anticipated. "Houses of the Holy" is Book Three of "The Great Unnamed" cannon, if you haven't read the last two books, please check them out too! Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Comments: 22
Kudos: 19





	1. Four Sticks part 1

“I’m cold” Jimmy muttered and pulled his black hemp jacket closer around his slender body. It set a beautiful contrast to his silky, snow white hair and his soft, pale skin. Robert smiled as he joined the love of his life on the balcony railing, overlooking the breath-taking view across to the highest peaks of the high Atlas Mountains. The craggy valley below looked shady and deep. An eagle soared high above in the endless blue sky, letting out sharp cries every now and again which echoed through the shadows and up to the sunny heights above.

So many memories. Robert had forgotten how long the two of them had been staying in the little holiday cottage in the Atlas Mountains, with no other visitors than their food suppliers, since they had decided to join up once more and relive their colourful past together. Days and nights blended into each other as they had reflected on their childhoods, on the magical day that they had met. The day Jimmy realised that some angels are real, and that Robert was the brightest star he had ever encountered. Robert’s confusion about a growing feeling for his new guitarist and bandleader, a feeling he did not know he could ever develop for another man. And the sharp sudden propulsion to super-stardom with their incredible band, Led Zeppelin. 

And here they were, old and marked. With adult children and growing grandchildren. They had lost each other, and yet, neither had ever been able to banish the other one from their heart. 

“Well”, Robert said, “I know how to keep you warm!” Jimmy smiled instantly, a glint in his dark eyes: “you always did! My sun! Do you remember, the second time we went up to Bron Yr Aur? In November! We were mad! It was freezing!”

*  
Three booming knocks shook the sturdy black wooden door of Jimmy’s boathouse. The three adults inside turned their heads sharply. Neither had expected any visitors. 

Charlotte went pale: “oh shit, what if my parents have tracked me down?” Robert patted her arm comfortingly and Jimmy built himself up as high as he could, looking about as menacing as a butterfly as he proclaimed: “I won’t let anything happen to you, I’ll fight them if I have to!” 

Since Charlotte had arrived at their home a few days ago, in a terrible state after having fled the convent her parents had put her in when they learned that she was expecting a child of a Rockstar, the three had soon accepted their unlikely little community and both Jimmy and Robert had done their best to make Charlotte welcome and looked after. Jimmy had called his private physician who had brought a kind midwife and they had found Charlotte in need of a few good meals but otherwise all well with her pregnancy. They had created a warm little bubble in the boathouse, keeping inside as much as possible whilst frost and ice covered the meadows outside and froze the edges of the river Thames. 

Another three knocks, louder and more insistent. “Wait, I recognise that knocking…but what the hell is he doing here? Unannounced?” Jimmy wondered, but before the other two could ask, he had gone down the hallway and left them behind. Robert wrinkled his forehead. Yes, he had recognised it too. Only one man he knew had hands large and strong enough to knock like this. He turned to Charlotte: “Erm, would you mind maybe going upstairs?” she instantly looked terrified, but Robert added quickly: “nothing to be afraid of, hon, just…business, you see? We’ll need a little time to explain…” Charlotte looked confused but as she heard the front door open and a gust of icy air blasting into the cosy warm living room, she swiftly left and went upstairs.

“G, good to see you!” Robert exclaimed, as brightly as he could, with a wide but not entirely genuine grin on his large, friendly face. “Fucking good to see you too!” Led Zeppelin’s manager, Peter Grant, or G as everyone called him, thundered. He was so large that he filled the door frame as he entered the living room and so tall, he nearly hit his head. The frost seemed to cling to him, and he brought a plume of ice with him that made Robert shudder. Peter maneuvered himself to the nearest sofa and Jimmy groaned inwardly as his precious antique sunk dangerously under G’s mighty proportions. Jimmy and Robert looked at each other briefly. G could be really good fun and company when he was in a good mood. But he felt like a thunderstorm approaching with lightening striking any minute when he was not. And today, he seemed more than a mighty super-cell than he had for a long time. 

“Uhm, would you like some tea?” Robert asked carefully, but G just glared at him. “Beer? Whiskey?”  
“Just fucking sit down!” He thundered and Led Zeppelin’s frontmen simultaneously sank down unto the nearest armchairs as if they had been felled by an axe. “Right”, G cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Right. Do you realise the pandemonium out there? I have to deal with it every bleeding day whilst you are all cuddled up here! Did you know that the third album was called ‘weak’? Oh, Led Zeppelin have lost their way and gone all soft and fucking floppy!” His large face took on an unpleasant shade of purple and his large moustache trembled. He quickly wiped his forehead. “I trust you two have been working hard on the next album! You better have! They’re after our heads if we don’t deliver…” Robert felt sudden anger raising inside himself. They were allowed a break every now and then. And he had followed the sales figures. Admittedly not as high as the last two albums but still beating most of their competition. “G, its been less than a month that the album was released! What exactly is your fucking problem?” 

G rose up, surprisingly fast for such a large man, and walked straight up to Jimmy’s elegant old-fashioned telephone. “See that? Do you know what this is?” He lifted the receiver and pretended to take a call. “See? You lift it up! You hold it to your ear! Guess what, you dial a number and you can talk to someone! Cool, eh?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yes, and best of all, sometimes, you don’t even need to find a number! They make that pleasant little bell sound! And all you have to do is lift the bloody receiver and say hello and…” he suddenly stopped himself. Put the receiver down and up again. Much calmer, and with genuine embarrassment in his voice, he said: “oh, um. I can’t hear anything…did you know that your phone line is down?” 

Jimmy looked at Robert and they couldn’t help themselves, as they started to giggle. “And we thought it was just really nice and quiet and everyone wanted us to have a little break!” G scratched his nose. “Hm…sorry…I thought you were ignoring my calls. But didn’t you notice? I mean, surely you must have tried to make phone calls in the last three or four days?” Jimmy sighed. He moved closer to G but turned to Robert. “Could you get us those beers, please, love? We’ve got to tell him.” Robert nodded and once all three were seated, Jimmy and Robert took turns to tell G how Charlotte had turned up at their doorstep. “But you are easily conned my unworldly friends! She’s a fucking groupie! That baby could be just about anyone’s!” “No, it couldn’t G.” Jimmy sighed. “Charlotte isn’t as, well, wild as you think. Whilst we were together, she stuck by me. The gods know why, I was horrible to her, but still. She has a damn good heart. And I trust her. She is carrying my child and I’ll do anything to protect them. I want my child to have the best start in life!” G reached over and punched Jimmy’s shoulder in a friendly way, chuckling excitedly, in a way only G could. “Well, well, congratulations, haha! Still, music is calling! I’ve spoken to Bonzo and Jonesy. Time to get the four of you together and working again. Show the world that Led Zeppelin are the best, the fire and the flame!”

“You wanna get us in the studio?” Jimmy asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Truth be told, between the bad atmosphere between him and Robert after their last tour and the arrival of Charlotte, he had done very little work in his home studio and he knew that whilst they did have concepts and some great songs in the making, they were a long, long way from being properly recorded. And he knew that the cold and pressurised working environment of a studio wasn’t really conductive to their creativity.

“No” G replied, smirking. “Oh, are we going back to that big old mansion, Headly Grange?” Robert asked, suddenly feeling rather excited. He had quite enjoyed their stay in the old work house last June. “Nope” G said, and paused for dramatic effect. “I’m sending Bonzo, Jonesy, and you two up to Wales. No families. Just a few roadies and me but we’ll be staying in the next village.” Robert grinned as realisation dawned. And this time, his smile was genuine and excited. “Yep, Robert. I’m sending the four of you up to Bron yr Aur!”


	2. Four Sticks part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello I'm back at long last!   
> We're joining our favorite lads again as they settle into freezing cold Bron yr Aur.

“Heh, this is cosy” Jonesy said, smiling mildly, the glow of the open fire reflecting on his smooth, sandy hair. Bonzo and Robert nodded, laughed and clinked their wine glasses.

Led Zeppelin’s four band members sat together around the open fireplace of Bron Yr Aur’s rustic living room, Bonzo and Robert on a wooden bench, and Jonesy on a chair opposite. Jimmy sat further back in an old plush armchair, gently strumming his beautiful acoustic Martin guitar. It was peaceful and quiet now, after the hustle and bustle of the long trip to Wales and the roadies making the band as comfortable as possible. That had been no mean feat; the cottage had no running water or electricity, and frost had covered the inside of each window on their arrival. 

At least they had been provided with large grates full of firewood, and they didn’t have to worry about their food spoiling in the pantry. By now, fires had been lit in every fireplace, and the whole cottage was filled with a warm glow and the age-old comfort of happily flickering candles. Of course, here in North Wales, it was even colder than in Pangbourne – but at least the cottage’s thick stone walls did well at keeping the cold outside and the hard-earned heat within it’s comfortable confines.   
“So” Bonzo chuckled as he broke the silence “Jimmy is gonna be a dad? Never saw that comin’!” Jimmy put his guitar down and joined the rest of the band. He smiled enigmatically, simply replying: “neither did I, my friend, neither did I!” 

Robert reached up to Jimmy and gently pulled him down onto the bench next to him. The two exchanged a quick, loving smile. Jonesy cleared his throat and asked “well, how, I mean, how are you two managing this now? It can’t be easy…” Robert shrugged. “It’s fine, honestly…look, I could never give Jimmy a child, and I’ve already got one…man, I remember, when Maureen first told me she was pregnant, I thought the world would end! Fuck, I was only 19!”  
“I remember when my Mo told me!” Jonesy chipped in, “see, I loved her from the start and always wanted to have a family with her but when it actually happened, boy, I thought, well, time to grow up!” Bonzo grinned “when my Pat told me, I was over the moon! I think I downed a whole bottle of whiskey and a couple of beers to celebrate!” 

The lads continued to drink deep red wine, smoke and talked about their lives. All four seemed to be so settled now, away from the road and the music: each had a family and each a large house. And yet, when Bonzo jumped up, drummed his hands against the nearest table and exclaimed: “blimey, I missed you guys! And the music, man, the audience going wild! I’m teaching little Jason to drum but every time I’m behind the kit, I imagine you guys! The stage! And 50 thousand fans in love with us!” 

Robert spontaneously broke out into a rogue version of “Whole lotta love”, Bonzo drummed his part on the table, Jimmy grabbed his acoustic guitar and did his best to pretend that it was electric. And Jonesy just sat there, with the widest grin and a glint in his eye that said more than a thousand words. “Haha! Still got it!” Bonzo triumphed as he finished his table drumming with a flourish. He put his arms around Jimmy and Robert’s shoulders, his face sweaty with the effort of drumming and the heat emanating from the fireplace. “guess what guys? I feel like music! I feel like Led Zeppelin! And I feel like mischief!” 

Robert awoke in the early hours of the morning. Despite being wrapped in a thick eiderdown quilt and a few woollen blankets on top, he was cold. His first thought was that it was due to the freezing air on his face but something was missing. Someone. Jimmy was not in bed. Robert opened his eyes and found a single candle burning near the window, where a rough-hewn wooden desk and chair stood. Jimmy’s face was illuminated enough for Robert to notice that he seemed to imitate strange words. He was bent over his huge book again, but he also had musical note sheets next to him. He seemed to take turns, reading, imitating words, picking up a pen, writing a few musical notes, repeating his actions again and again. Robert kept quiet, as he did not want to startle Jimmy, but he was also somewhat disconcerted. Why wasn’t Jimmy tired after their long, cold journey? Robert himself wasn’t able to keep his eyes open for long and he drifted back to sleep.


	3. Four Sticks part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads get down to work!

“Dear fellow Zeps! My brothers! Let’s make this happen!” Bonzo droned happily, a wide grin below his imposing moustache, his friendly brown eyes shining, his strong arms outstretched as if he wanted to crush the other three in a mighty hug. 

Jonesy smiled rather awkward, he had to admit that between school runs, nappy changes and managing his new huge estate, he hadn’t really thought of music as much as he usually did. He had put in regular practice of course – Jonesy was disciplined like that; after all, his dad, the famous organist, had taught him well from an early age. Still, he hadn’t really thought of any new compositions. 

But faced with this bunch here in their small Welsh cottage with no electricity, somehow made him wonder how much his classical training would help. He shily glanced from one to another and groaned inwardly: Bonzo of course seemed full of energy and couldn’t wait to start. But Jonesy hadn’t missed that he had already downed several shots of vodka whilst the others sipped their morning tea. 

Robert looked as if he was in a world of his own, like a fantasy prince of a different realm: his curls were longer and fuller than ever, and a complete tangled mess. He was growing a small beard that somehow made Jonesy think of the God Pan; Robert had a dreamy smile on his large mouth and his clear blue eyes stared out of the window, into the wild hills beyond. He was half hidden behind swirling smoke which did not smell of tobacco. 

Jimmy, now he did not even seem to be present. His lanky frame was draped over Robert’s shoulder and Jonesy couldn’t say for sure if Jimmy was awake or possibly still asleep. Robert gently held and stoked the guitarist’s back as if to make sure that he was alive.

All three were therefore rather startled when Jimmy suddenly awoke from his stupor, brushing his lush ebony locks back and said, completely professional sounding: “right lads, I would like to work on this track we started to develop at Headly Grange. The one where Bonz used four drumsticks.” Bonzo’s face lit up at the mention of this song, grabbing two knives and two forks left over from their last meal and started to drum a crazy rhythm onto the old kitchen table.   
Jimmy listened for a bit, nodding his head along with a serious expression. “Yes, that one. I want this to have some crazy dark lyrics.” Jonesy scratched his head, somewhat uncertain. Bonzo stopped for a moment, before he attacked the table with even more force, sounding angry this time. He stopped abruptly, mustered Jimmy, saying “what, like that? Angry?” Jimmy nodded and produced a pile of papers, rustling through them and dropping some whilst he muttered “here, I made notes…” 

Jonesy bent over and read out “Oh baby, it’s cryin’ time, oh baby I’ve got to fly…” And a lot of complicated cords and musical notes scribbled above. This time he nodded slowly too, found an empty piece of paper and began to work on a bass line corresponding to Jimmy’s chords and notes. Soon the three musicians were eagerly bent over the old oak kitchen table, humming and singing and drumming ideas to each other, laughing, arguing good naturedly, crossing bits out and adding new ones, taking the pens from each other with eager keenness to add their own parts to the new creation. 

So eager where the three that they completely forgot about Robert, who had not entered the activities at all. Jimmy eventually noticed him a few hours later, still sitting in his chair next to the window, smoking some more unsavoury herbs, his eyes large and unfocussed. Jimmy sighed and got up, finally abandoning their work.   
He laid his hand on Robert’s shoulder, but the other continued to stare and smoke. He was suddenly acutely aware that Robert sometimes felt left out as he did not play an instrument on stage, that he was no professionally trained musician like Jimmy and Jonesy. That Robert, quite wrongly, might feel as if he was ‘only the singer’. “Hey, love, you alright?” Jimmy asked carefully.  
Robert finally turned around, a lazy grin on his bearded mouth, drinking Jimmy in with his eyes before he produced a piece of paper: “here you go, baby. I’ve finished the lyrics for you.” 

Jimmy’s eyes grew large as he read Robert’s artfully large handwriting, baffled. When he reached the main verse, he mouthed the words in wonder: “And when the owls cry in the night; Oh baby, baby when the pines begin to cry…”   
“Where the heck do you get such lyrics from?” he finally asked, amazed, until his lovely round face lit up with a sweet toothy smile and he hugged Robert tightly. Through the thick curtain of Robert’s curls, he whispered: “my poet, my sweet genius. I love you!”

Back at the table, Bonzo and Jonesy looked at each other, instinctively rolling their eyes, before breaking out in laughter. Bonzo quickly filled two shot glasses with the leftovers of his vodka bottle and pushed one over to Jonesy. The slighter man glanced over to his front men, who were by now entangled in a tight embrace, Jimmy on Robert’s lap, snogging each other’s face off. Jonesy lifted his glass and waved it in the general direction of Jimmy, Robert and then Bonzo, saying, “to Led Zeppelin!” before downing it as quick as he could.


	4. Four Sticks part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry I couldn't write last weekend - but today, our lad's antics in the Welsh hills continue!  
> Hope you enjoy :-)

Somewhere down in the dark, old rooms of Bron yr Aur, a clock struck one O’clock at night, it’s chime reverberating around the cottage long after its single stoke had ended. Robert turned around, sleepy, reaching out for Jimmy, but again, he found himself alone. Something like an unpleasant premonition filled his tired brain. Being trapped between sleep and wakefulness, he convinced himself that Jimmy was gone, or that he had never been with him in the first place. And then everything else fell apart too, like a building that had been blown up with dynamite, toppling slow at first, then fast, like catharsis, unstoppable. He felt as if everything good and happy was breaking away below him, and he was alone in the dark. 

He felt his heart hammering. He clutched his blanket tightly, seeking comfort.   
Through the wooden wall which separated the small bedrooms upstairs, he could hear Bonzo move and start to snore loudly. It helped Robert to shake himself out of his dark nightmare. All is well, he told himself. Bonzo is right here, snoring his head off, and Jonesy was most likely next door, cursing him. Robert forced his eyes open. 

Moonshine flooded through the latticed windows; curtains wide open. Robert could clearly see the piles of books and papers on the desk in front of it – Jimmy must have worked late again. But the two candles on the table were extinguished and Robert couldn’t see Jimmy anywhere.

As his eyes became more accustomed to the dark, he noticed the faint outlines of a hooded figure, tall and long, next to the window frame, in a light cloak – grey maybe. The figure stood completely motionless. Still not quite awake, Robert tried to persuade himself that this was not a figure at all, but Jimmy’s cloak, which he had hung up beside the window. He almost convinced himself - and then the figure moved!

This time, his terror subsided quickly. He recognized the movements and knew Jimmy was here with him. Jimmy moved steadily, not aware that Robert was awake. He drew the curtains shut, and took his robe off, folding it carefully.  
At last, he came to bed. Robert gently spooned him and buried his nose in Jimmy’s lush locks. He felt warm again and save. He managed to tell himself that in the end, all would be well.

*

Living with three top-class musicians certainly had its perks, Robert thought as he awoke sometime around noon the next day. Beautiful music flooded the house, along the smell of coffee, toast and cigarettes. A mandolin. Played artfully, in a medieval style, repeating a pattern, then adding a new one and changing again, back to the first pattern. But Jimmy wasn’t playing – he was still asleep in Robert’s arms. So, who…?

Curiosity got the better of Robert and he put on his warm woolly jumper and snuck down the creaky wooden staircase.   
A lively fire flickered in the kitchen hearth, and Jonesy and Bonzo were sitting opposite each other on each side of the fireplace. Jonesy held the most unusual instrument Robert had ever seen: it looked like a Siamese triplet in the form of three mandolins, with three necks sticking out and three bodies moulded into one. He couldn’t help staring, both enchanted by the music and in awe of the unusual instrument.

He felt a quiet movement behind him and knew Jimmy had joined them. He linked his hands around Robert’s elbow and stared too.   
Jonesy appeared completely unperturbed. He kept playing, the music raising and falling, eventually coming to a ringing end. Then he looked up and smiled at the others. Robert and Bonzo spontaneously applauded, but Jimmy seemed unamused. He waited quietly until the other two had gone off to find some food, then he sat next to Jonesy and hissed: “so, it’s not enough that you already play the bass and that showy keyboard of yours…the recorders on Stairways…you also want to take over the stings?” 

Joney’s smile faded and he put his strange instrument down. Shocked, he replied: “Jimmy…no, look, I found this three headed mandolin at a friend’s house – and I thought, since we don’t have electricity here…we might want to experiment…I was only trying it out!” Jimmy rubbed his face, still dismayed. “Look”, Jonesy added, “why don’t we work on a joint string section?” When he noticed that Jimmy still wouldn’t look at him, he produced a second mandolin, this one a traditional instrument. “Jim? Here, come on, try it! Have you played mandolin before?” 

“Don’t patronise me!” Jimmy said, mockingly. He grabbed the instrument and although Jonesy was certain Jimmy hadn’t actually played mandolin before, it didn’t take the gifted young man long to figure it out. Robert, who had become quite used to picking up on Jimmy’s moods, felt relieved.   
And he knew just the song he wanted to use the mandolins for!

In the afternoon, the sun shone invitingly, and the frost had retreated to the deepest shadows behind trees and in ditches. The band decided to head outside into the beautiful late autumn countryside. Two of their roadies joined them, together with their dogs, and as they wandered up though fields and woods, the wind blowing in their hair, they laughed, joked and sang together. 

As they walked through a small copse, Robert stopped and picked up a stick. He shook it into Jimmy’s direction, threw his hair back and shouted, rather dramatic: “Come fight me, Lord of the Darkness!” Jimmy found himself a stick, longer and thicker than Robert’s, taunting him: “hey, if I am the Prince of Darkness, who are you? The bloody Queen of Light?”   
They fought each other, jostling like little boys, until Robert’s stick broke and he wrestled Jimmy to the floor instead. He trapped him below his body, pressing Jimmy into the soft, crunchy leaves. As their eyes locked, he forgot everything else around him, including the laughter of his friends, which filled the valley. 

They continued walking again until one of their roadies stopped them dead in their tracks. They had reached a wide-open field, a small flock of sheep grazing on the far end. The grass was short and damp, and dotted with little colourful mushrooms, some deep red, others bright yellow and some pink and frayed, looking like little ballerinas. Bonzo stooped down and picked up a particularly nice red one, asking their roadie if he could eat it. The roadie laughed: “well, yeah you could! It’s a scarlet waxcap. It’s not the tastiest though…no, what you want to pick…are those!”

Amongst the colourful waxcaps, the others hadn’t given any attention to anther kind of small, innocuous looking mushroom, tan coloured, with wriggly stems, and bell shaped caps. Bonzo picked one up, and started giggling: “hey, that one looks like a tit! It has a bloody nipple on top!” He showed the others, and indeed, the small tan mushrooms all sported a little pointy tip on their caps.   
“But why would anyone pick them? They're tiny! You’d need loads for some mushroom soup!” Bonzo laughed. 

Their roadie picked a few more and handed them to Bonzo. “You want to find out? Are you brave enough to try? I promise you will be fine…in the end!” Bonzo was a man who was always happy to try anything, at least once. Without hesitation, he put the lot in his mouth and chewed. He swallowed and complained: “Fuck you man, they taste disgusting!” The roadie just smiled knowingly and led his companions to a large tree trunk, where they sat down in the afternoon sun. Everyone watched Bonzo, who just sat quietly, staring into the distance. Suddenly, he turned to his friends, his eyes large and out of focus, and said in a voice that didn’t sound like his own:” I can hear the trees. Trees sound like a thousand mandolins. Look!" He flung his arm out, starling one of the dogs that had sat at his feet. " It’s the queen of light. She plays the trees. Isn’t she beautiful?” He turned to Robert, stared at him and kissed him fully on the lips. Then he toppled over and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please - don't go off finding magic mushrooms! They are an illegal class A drug in the UK- yes, possession, distribution, etc is as strictly punished as if you were handling heroin!  
> But I'm trying to write this story as authentic as possible, and I hope you don't mind and understand that I am not writing this to promote the use of any illegal substances...thank you all x


End file.
